


Boulevard of Broken dreams

by Lady3jane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AryaxGendry Week, Drugs, F/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady3jane/pseuds/Lady3jane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Arya's clients invariably had a sleazy, devious look about them, but Gendry Waters didn't seem to be her usual type of client. He was hard, she could see that. He had steel in him that didn't come from being raised in privilege, with the safety net of old money. She looked at his charge sheet. No previous. Why was he here?"...A one shot AU for the 'drug' prompt on AryaxGendry week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She blew into the Police Station, trying to juggle her briefcase, bag, dripping umbrella and her stinking hangover. 

“What have you got for me?”

The Duty Officer cocked one eyebrow at her from behind his screen.

“Rough night Miss Stark?”

“Just tell me why I’m here.”

The Police Officer flicked through his paperwork.

“You’ll like this one” he smirked. 

Arya knew from previous experience that smirk wasn’t a good sign. Usually it meant some drunk, reeking of piss and puke or some junkie on the come-down. She winced at the thought. She’d done a few lines herself last night and was suffering a come-down of her own. Fuck this Duty Solicitor rota. The Trainee always got the shitty end of the stick and it would be another 4 months before Lannister Law took on another one. Only then would she finally get to step up from the bottom rung of the career ladder. Then she’d take great delight in phoning the new trainee at 7am on a Saturday morning and telling them to get themselves down to the cells ASAP.

“His name is Gendry Waters, picked up last night for assault. Put the other guy in the hospital. They might do your man for attempted murder” the cop leered, relishing the thought of another of his ‘customers’ being locked up for a very long time.

Arya’s ears pricked up. Attempted murders were money spinners for Lannister Law. Tywin and Jaime liked money spinners and she liked to keep the bosses happy.

“I’ll have him brought up from the cells for you.”

She sat down to wait, wearing yesterday’s suit, longing for her own bed. Every part of her ached, as if she had flu. She sniffed and searched for a handkerchief. She had none, so she sniffed again. 

Fucking coke. 

She promised herself never again, but she’d been saying that every Monday morning since she started at Lannisters. 

Fucking Jaime Lannister. 

He was the golden boy in every way – the blonde haired son of the big boss, a shit hot defence lawyer, achingly good looking and he damn well knew it. As usual, Friday drinks after work turned into a party at Casterly Rock. It had been made pretty clear to her that, if she wanted to get on at Lannister Law, she would be expected to socialise with the other Lawyers and favoured clients when required, which seemed to be most weekends, every one of them awash with cocaine. 

Not only that, as the Trainee, she was still expected to fulfil her employer’s obligations on the Duty Solicitor’s rota. Lannister Law didn’t normally deal with this sort of common clientele, but as the most respected firm in Westeros (for ‘most respected’ read - most expensive and best at exploiting every legal loophole in order to get their clients off) they liked to be seen to be doing their bit for the community. This meant taking their turn with the other, less significant, law firms to represent the scum who had the misfortune to be picked up at the weekend by Westeros’ finest boys in blue. 

“Hey Miss Stark!” the Duty Officer called after her as she trudged towards the interview room.

“What?” she snapped, turning around. “Enjoy!” he winked. She cursed him under her breath. This must be a right stinker.

One of the younger cops she recognised from school was waiting outside the interview room. “Christ! Look at the state of you. What did you get up to last night?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know” she sneered. “Just let me in. I want to get home sometime today.”

“Ok, ok, someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning.”

Not just the wrong side of bed. The wrong fucking bed.

The door was unlocked for her and she dumped her briefcase on the table, searching around in her raincoat pocket for her cigarettes before she even bothered with the client. Only when she’d found her fags and her lighter, did she collapse onto the cheap plastic chair and look across the table.

Shit! She sat up a bit straighter. This wasn’t her usual calibre of client. Even with a night’s stubble on his chin and a pissed off expression, he was fucking gorgeous. Not in that smooth, male-model, Jaime Lannister way, but in a dark, brooding, dangerous way that made it difficult for her to maintain eye contact. In eight months she’d never had one client she considered even remotely attractive, but Mr Gendry Waters made up for that and then some. Wait until the girls in the office got a load of him. The Duty Officer’s comments and winks now made sense.

She lit her cigarette, glad she had something to occupy her hands and her eyes, giving her a little time to compose herself before she had to look at him again. Yep. Still fucking gorgeous; she hadn’t been hallucinating.

She offered him one and sniffed again.

He looked even more pissed off. “I don’t smoke and shouldn’t you have asked me if I mind before you lit one up?”

His voice was deep, his pale blue eyes cold as ice water. Her stomach flipped.

She exhaled quickly, turning her head slightly, blowing the smoke out of the corner of her mouth, away from him. He still looked disgusted. 

“Never had a client that minded before.” She muttered.

“Well you’ve got one now.”

She reluctantly took a final drag and stubbed it out. 

“Nobody ever tell you those things will kill you?”

“Gotta die of something” she sniffed, opening her briefcase and bringing out her forms. Attending to business was a welcome distraction from his piercing eyes, eyes that were doing things to her that she didn’t want to be happening in a police interview room with a coke come-down.

He stood up and dug around in the pocket of his jeans. She noticed how tall he was and that his jeans were faded but clean, tight across chunky thighs and a bulging crotch which was now enticingly at eye level. He produced a flat, ironed, square of white cotton and held it out to her.

“Use this.”

She was going to refuse, but as if to punctuate his request, she had to sniff again.

Fucking coke. 

She took his handkerchief and their fingertips touched briefly, making her shiver. She jerked her hand away, shocked that such glancing contact from a stranger could have so much of an effect on her. He was staring at her, his expression unfathomable.

She tried to dab at her nose in a delicate, ladylike fashion, but it was no use. She had to blow. She briefly worried that some of last night’s lines were going to make a reappearance in her client’s handkerchief.

“Keep it.” He growled. Was he looking at her suspiciously? She averted her eyes. Could he tell what she’d been up to the night before? God, she was getting paranoid now. This payback was a bitch.

“So what did you do to get yourself in here?” she drawled as she began filling in the forms – another excuse not to look at him.

He didn’t answer, forcing her to look up again into those icy eyes. 

Her clients invariably had a sleazy, devious look about them, but Gendry Waters didn’t seem to be her usual type of client. He was hard, she could see that. He had steel in him that didn’t come from being raised in privilege, with the safety net of old money. He wasn’t like her and all of her friends. He’d seen a few things she was sure, but she saw strength and determination in those cold, blue eyes, rather than aggression or cunning. 

She looked at his charge sheet. No previous. Why was he here?

“Do I have to tell you?” he asked eventually.

“Only if you want to get out of here.” 

Finally, she felt as if she had the upper hand. He was uncertain, unsure of the procedure and he needed her. She had to stifle a smile. She liked that he was cold and hard, but suddenly vulnerable.

“Ok… I beat a guy up last night.”

She wrote that down. “Use a weapon?”

Again no answer. She looked up. He was staring at his hands. They were big and strong, like the rest of him. She’d noticed his shirt sleeves drawn tight over his biceps.

“Only these.” He said slowly, flexing his fingers.

“They don’t count…unless you’re some kind of martial arts expert. Are you?” 

“No.”

“Great. Know the victim?” She didn’t have anything else to write, so had to look up from her papers again. He was glaring angrily at her. Her stomach did that flip thing again.

“Believe me, he’s no ‘victim’. He deserved what he got from me and a hell of a lot more.” 

“Let’s stick to the facts shall we Mr Waters? Did he hit you first?”

“No.”

She sighed. “So we can’t plead self defence and I hear you put the other guy…” she checked the charge sheet again for the victim’s name, “…Petyr Baelish, in the hospital. You wanna tell me why?”

Arya studied her client’s face as she waited for his response, watching the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench. Strands of thick, black hair fell over his forehead. His eyes were downcast, focused on his hands again, fingers thick and strong, hands clean, but not too clean. That looked like engine oil engrained in the calluses. One set of knuckles was skinned red, but other than that, she couldn’t see any signs that he’d been in a fight. He must be pretty handy if the other guy was in the hospital. She found herself wondering if he was handy in any other ways. 

“He’s my sister’s pimp.” Gendry Waters said quietly.

Arya’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected that.

He looked up, pain and desperation filling those blue eyes.

“I should say…my half sister…Bella. She’s had a hard life...” He inhaled slowly and paused, looking at Arya as if weighing her up, deciding how much to tell her. She willed him to continue. Normally she couldn’t give a shit about why her clients did what they did, but she found herself wanting to know more about him.

He exhaled slowly then explained, 

“She’s a junkie. In deep. I got her a place in rehab, day before yesterday. I basically kidnapped her. You wanna hear that?” he wondered, staring at her with those wide, hurting, blue eyes.

She did. She wanted to hear all about it, but not here.

“Just tell me about the assault.”

“So this sleazy little shitbag…”

“Mr Baelish?” she interrupted. He glowered. Her stomach did its flip thing.

“Yeah him. He came looking for her, wanted her ‘back where she belonged’ he said.” 

Gendry Waters shook his head, grimacing at the memory, before he continued bitterly, “He was the one got her hooked in the first place. He finds these girls; pretty, vulnerable and young…always young… and he offers them a job in his ‘club’. To begin with they’re waitresses and the money’s great. He finds them a place to stay, he’s not only their employer, he’s their best friend. Then he gives them a little something to help them through, to take the edge off. It’s on the house to begin with, it’s a party. You know…everyone’s happy.” 

Arya thought of herself last night, partying with the Lannisters at Casterly Rock.

“Yeah I know.” She said softly.

“By the time he remembers to mention there’s rent to be paid, they’re hooked and they owe him. They owe him big. But they’ve not to worry; there’s a way they can make him happy and it’s quick and it’s easy…”

Arya remembered Jaime Lannister and how he’d sat down beside her last night and run his hand up her thigh and how she’d been too coked up to really notice, or to be more accurate, to care. She’d been partying too, hadn’t she? She cringed as she remembered how he’d leaned in close, smelling of expensive aftershave and old money, how he’d brushed her hair away with a soft hand before pressing his smooth cheek against hers, how he’d murmured that the best way to get on in Lannister Law was to make him happy. She felt sick.

She looked across the table at Gendry Waters and saw a brother desperate to save his sister and a man who was prepared to fight for a woman he loved.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

He looked bewildered. “But they told me I was in here until court on Monday.”

She stood up, stuffing her papers back into her briefcase. “I’ll arrange bail as long as you undertake to appear.”

“How do they know I’ll not disappear?”

“They don’t, but I do. You’ll not leave your sister will you?”

“No.”

“Come on then.”

Soon they were standing outside the Police Station in the rain. It was still only 9am on a sodden, winter, Saturday morning.

“I should thank you…”

“Just be there on time, ok?”

“I will.” He vowed. 

She knew he would. 

He turned up the collar on his coat and walked out into the driving rain. She stood and watched him walk away. He looked like an old photo she’d seen of James Dean. She didn’t know why she remembered, but she knew it was called ‘Boulevard of broken dreams’. 

Her car was parked in the opposite direction. 

She hesitated. She had a choice. She’d always had a choice. 

“Mr Waters!” she yelled. He never heard her, her voice carried away by the wind and the rain.

She hesitated again. Then she made her decision. No more drugs. No more Lannisters. No more broken dreams.

She opened her umbrella and ran after him.


	2. Rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Arya x Gendry week and for my Brazilian Guy
> 
>  
> 
> This is the second chapter of a story I wrote for Arya x Gendry week in 2013 – Boulevard of Broken Dreams. 
> 
> It also works as a stand alone. All you need to know is that she’s a lawyer and he’s her client, fresh out the cells for beating up his sister’s pimp the night before.
> 
> -o-

The rain was driving horizontally, making her umbrella pretty useless. This downpour had started last night and forgotten to stop. The sky was leaden, the boulevard deserted, save for the one lone figure up ahead; his shoulders hunched, his collar up against the rain.

Arya told herself she was only doing the decent thing as she splashed through one oily puddle after another, her feet soaked, her designer shoes probably ruined. Anyone would offer him a lift home in this weather. Wouldn’t they?

She shouted at his big, broad back again. This time he heard her. This time he stopped, turning half around, rain running in rivulets off the ends of his hair, his chin and his perfectly straight nose. His jacket wasn’t waterproof and he was probably soaked through already. More proof she’d done the right thing by running after him.

“I’m parked over there.” She nodded to the row of cars outside the police station. “If you want a lift.”

He started to turn away. “I’m fine . . . thanks.”

“Wait!” She hadn’t ruined her shoes chasing after him for nothing.

He turned back, looking pissed. Arya took a step closer and lifted the umbrella higher, so it was at least sheltering his face from the rain. He was tall and she had to fully extend her arm. He didn’t look very grateful. 

“I know where you live . . . from the forms,” she muttered when he didn’t immediately respond. “Look, it’s a shitty day and you’re on my way.” He wasn’t really. He lived in the east end, she lived in the west, but it wasn’t as if she had anything to do today other than sleep off her hangover.

“I can’t drive past you standing around in this,” She looked at the unsheltered bus stop a couple of paces ahead and noticed his eyes flicking to the car park. The tendons in his jaw flexed. He seemed to be debating whether to take her up on her offer or not.

“I need to get back to my van. It’s parked up, but the police . . . well you know what happened.”

“Yeah. I’ll take you to your van then. Whatever you want.”

He seemed about to agree when a gust of wind caught her umbrella. Her grip wasn’t great as she was holding it up so high up. One of the spokes poked his temple before she could stop it.

“Fuck!” One of his big, wet hands was over and around hers, roughly extracting the handle of the umbrella from her fist. “Gimme that before you take my eye out.”

She glared at him. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Ungrateful bastard. She should have just let him find is own way back to his bloody van.

He kind of smiled then, probably suspecting he was pissing her off when she was only doing him a favour. “I’ll hold it and thanks.” 

Shifting position, he held the umbrella over her head, which meant he had to stoop to get under it too. They weren’t touching, but he was so close she was acutely aware of his big male body and the heat radiating off him. Arya shivered and it wasn’t from cold.

“Christ, you’re soaked through. Which car is yours?”

“The black one.”

He snorted sarcastically as they walked back toward the Police Station. “That narrows it down.”

The sky was so dark and the rain so heavy that most of the cars looked black. He had a point. “Second from the left. The Mercedes.”

He swore softly under his breath. “The SLK?”

“Yeah.” 

His pace picked up on hearing that and Arya had to hurry along to keep up. His big boots splashed even more filthy water up her legs, but he seemed oblivious.

“Fuck, AMG too.” 

“Yeah.” It was a car. Big deal. Her father had bought it for her when she’d graduated. Said it was the kind of car a lawyer should have. It went. It didn’t break down. Every other lawyer at Lannister Law had a flashier one. Still, Gendry Waters seemed impressed.

Arya cast a sideways look at him. The serious scowl was gone, replaced by an inane grin. It made him look about fifteen and that made her smile. Cars were obviously his thing. She stopped at the driver’s door to fumble in her bag for the key. He kept walking, eyes fixed on the car.

“Hey, my umbrella!” Not that it really mattered. Neither of them could get much wetter.

“Uh, sorry.” He was back beside her in a couple of his long strides. “I’m impressed. 350, top of the range.” 

Arya wasn’t sure if he was asking her or telling her. “Is it?”

He looked down at her, his expression incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t know every bloody spec on the bloody car. “This beauty is wasted on you, you know that?”

The edges of his mouth were kicked up in a grin and he looked fucking adorable like that; all wet and unshaven and smiley, like some aftershave model in a glossy magazine. 

What would he do if she threaded her fingers through the sleek black hair at the nape of his neck, pulled his face down to hers and just kissed him? Would he care that they’d known each other for less than an hour? Would he press her against the car with those thick thighs of his and fuck her mouth with his tongue? Or would he stiffen and push her away and remind her she was his lawyer? Maybe he’d even complain to Jaime and Tywin that she’d assaulted him. Maybe Jaime would be jealous. Buggering hell. She must still be drunk if she thought Jaime Lannister gave a flying fuck who she kissed. 

Thinking about Jaime and what had happened last night snapped her out of her erotic daydream pretty quickly. Fuck. No matter how hot Mr Gendry Waters was, he was still a client. She was probably still drunk if she was even contemplating kissing him. Maybe she should let him drive? 

“Yeah, this car is wasted on me,” she muttered, trying to banish the image of him fucking her up against the car which kept sneaking back into her mind. She pressed the key fob. The car chirruped and lit up like a Christmas tree.

He held the umbrella for her as she slid into the driver’s seat. As she started the car he sprinted around to the passenger side. She wondered if he was just eager to get out of the rain. Wouldn’t it be fanbloodytastic if he was dying to get in beside her and join her in a car-sex fantasy?

She turned the heater and the wipers on full as he opened the door. But he didn’t get in. Instead he stood there, umbrella dripping in his hand as the rain poured over him.

“You gotta be kidding me.”

It took Arya a moment to realise what he meant. The passenger seat had a few empty cans and chocolate wrappers on it. She leaned across and swept them onto the floor with the other rubbish. But instead of getting in, he was looking at her as if she’d just crapped in his cornflakes.

“Get in. It’s fucking pouring, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Not until I get rid of this shit.”

To Arya’s dismay, he bent into the passenger foot-well and started gathering up all the stuff down there. What the fuck? What was he - some kind of neat freak?

“What’s your problem? Just get in!”

“What’s my problem?” He stopped picking up rubbish to glower at her, bent nearly double, his face was only inches away from hers. His thick black brows were drawn together, the blue eyes under them blazing. Until then, her panties had been the last bit of her clothing that wasn’t wet. He only had to look at her like that and they were fucking soaked.

“If I had a car like this, I’d treat it with respect; not like a fucking bin.”

He went back to shovelling her crap.

“If you’re so Goddamn fussy. You drive and I’ll sit there. I don’t mind a bit of mess.”

He snorted and curled his lip and didn’t stop. Arya flung her door open, got out and stomped, or rather sloshed, around to the passenger side. By then he was halfway to the nearest bin. 

She got into the car and slammed the door. Only for it to be yanked open again. 

“I’m not finished!” 

She shrieked as he pushed her legs up with one strong, wet arm on the back of her thighs. Keeping them suspended in the air with his shoulder, he grabbed at the last cans and wrappers.

“You are fucking mad!” she yelled at him.

“And you’re . . .” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost when he turned his head to finish his sharp retort, only to find himself looking straight up her skirt. He froze, his eyes snapping up from her inner thighs, stockings, soaked silk panties and all, to her face, which was rapidly turning the same scarlet shade as her underwear. His nostrils flared, his eyes darkened but he didn’t move.

Despite the shock and shame of it, Arya found it so hot to have him there, so close she could feel his breath feathering the sensitive skin under her damp stockings. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she flexed her hips a little, just enough to part her thighs, just enough to let him see the bright red silk and where it was darkened to deep, wet crimson by her desire for him. 

He looked for a long moment. His breath dragged raggedly across her heated skin before he turned away, dropping his shoulder, letting her legs fall back to the floor, gathering up the final bits and pieces and striding off through the rain. Arya watched him go, her heart thumping, between her legs throbbing, wondering if he would come back or just keep walking. 

A few moments later he tucked himself into the driver’s seat, his big hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white, except the ones that were still red raw from the beating he’d given his sister’s pimp. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “You sure about this?”

Arya cast a sultry sideways look his way. Fuck, but he was gorgeous, all big and wound up and dripping wet. She let her eyes drop to the unmistakeable bulge in the wet denim of his jeans. She might even have licked her lips. “Are you?” 

He gave her a slow, confident, sexy as hell grin in reply. “Let’s do this.”

Arya kicked off her heels and settled down in her seat as Mr Waters eased her Mercedes out into the street. His driving was like the rest of him, self-assured and skilled. He made her feel safe. A man who was prepared to risk jail to protect his sister had to be a good one, didn’t he? Arya decided there and then that, no matter what it took, Gendry Waters wasn’t going to jail. Even if it meant asking her father for help.

The wipers pulsed smoothly, the heater hummed softly and the tyres of her car seemed to be whispering a long forgotten lullaby through the rain. Arya closed her eyes and dreamed of brighter days ahead.

 

-o-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boulevard of Broken Dreams will always have a special place in my heart as it was over this story that Brazilian Guy and I first bonded. I think the idea of a straight-up, good guy Gendry who was prepared to go to any lengths to save his sister appealed to BG’s own similar sense of honour. In the past 2 years he has brightened up my life and I have Fanfic to thank for that. 
> 
> Hope you readers enjoyed that. I might even write the next chapter for the ‘heat’ prompt at the end of the week. Hahaha. If I do that, chapters in this story will be like buses – you wait two years for one and then two come along at once. We’ll see.
> 
> I already have another wee story ready to go for the “secret relationship” prompt tomorrow. Something different, something playful. It’s called “Shenandoah,” so look out for that!


End file.
